


Denial Waits

by DeepBlue20



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Long lost daughter fic, Mentions of Abusive Relationship, Other, all the brothers are happy and get along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepBlue20/pseuds/DeepBlue20
Summary: Fifteen years after leaving Kiev, Ivar always thought that Katya never brought his child to term, now he is about to find out that his daughter is alive, brought before him pregnant and in the arms of an abusive man.
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Original Character(s), Ivar (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), Ivar / daughter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Denial Waits

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for a challenge via tumblr. The prompt being:  
> Denial Waits by Ashes Divide  
> If I just closed my eyes, I'll still see your lips saying everything will be alright, If I saw you right now, I'm embarrassed to say, I'd take you back and we could just pretend you never went away

‘Ivar Ragnarsson!’ A man shouted his name as he burst through the large oak doors of the great hall. He was as large as a giant, tall and twice the width Bjorn had ever been. The man half dragged a girl by the skinny twigs of her arms, her dark hair unbound, covered her face, though she said nothing Ivar could tell she did not want to be there. 

Ivar has been discussing trade with merchants that had traveled from Arabia. It was a long and tedious process as the translators barbed back and forth the words of their masters. He did not understand a single word that passed through their lips. For all he knew his own translator was making a deal of his own. 

The translator, Dara, a man who had lived in Kattegat for close to 20 years knew better than to try to trick Ivar. He had witnessed the cruelty imposed on those who had betrayed the king. Still that did not keep Ivar from idly sitting back as negotiations worked. Carefully, he watched the expression of each man, the subtle pressing of lips, the slight arch of a brow, even a slow blinking of eyelids told more than any words could. 

He had been so entranced in the negotiations that it took him a moment to process his name being shouted. He tilted his head taking in this beast of a man who again called out his name. The men around him shifted uneasily, not wanting to get caught between the giant and the cripple. Ivar lifted his hand trying to sooth their worries, shaking his head when they tried to get up and move. 

He caught Ubbe’s gaze from across the room. He had entered from the back door, coming in from an afternoon spent hunting. Long bow in hand he rested his shoulder against a pillar casually keeping an eye on the raging man. He raised a brow in Ivar’s direction, wondering who this man was, but Ivar knew no better than him and shrugged his shoulders. 

‘Ivar Ragnarsson!’ The man shouted again. The hall had gone quiet, no one moving to oust the location of their king. Eyes were downcast and avoidant and only the few guards Ivar kept around postured at the man’s threatening presence. 

‘Where is he? I want to talk to him.’ The man goaded at a guard who had taken a half step into the giant in an attempt to apprehend him. 

Ubbe glanced briefly at Ivar, seeking permission and received it with a slight bob of his head. 

‘You are looking for King Ivar. I am his brother, Ubbe. I can assist you in any way he can.’ Ubbe announced, ever the diplomat. He stepped forward, longbow resting on the pillar, hands clasped before him. He wore no sword or ax on his hip, unneeded in the typical peace of the great hall but a large knife rested, hidden at his back if this man decided to attack. Ivar would not let this man have the advantage over his brother. A few guards eyed their king and he motioned at them to step in closer. 

The man had calmed slightly having finally been acknowledged. The rage which he had carried in almost vanished instantly as Ubbe spoke. A man who could so swiftly change his mood was not one to be trusted. Ivar knew, he too possessed the same ability. His hand stroked the throwing knife tucked at his hip, feeling the cool metal under his fingertips settling his nerves within the weapon. 

‘I am Atli Atlisson.’ Atli's voice boomed in the quiet hall, his right hand sliding to the pommel of his sword as Ubbe approached, forgetting the maiden that he had held so dearly until that moment. 

Ubbe acted unfazed by his slight posturing only waiting patiently for this man to announce whatever his grievance was so that he might attempt to mend the situation. 

‘I have brought here Ivar Ragnarsson’s daughter, Freydis, from the Rus capital, to ask his permission to marry her.’ Atli’s voice softened with his request but his face was still hard and angry, ready to be denied. Ubbe lost all of his visage the moment he spoke of a daughter. His blue eyes widened and he craned his neck in Ivar’s direction giving him a disbelieving look. Ivar had never mentioned anything about a daughter. Ivar rolled his eyes in annoyance, Ubbe had never been good at hiding his emotions. Atli followed Ubbe’s gaze, finding Ivar at the end of it and a small smile creeped on his lips as he recognized the king. He returned it with his own honeyed smile, slowly he turned his legs out from the table and stiffly stood, leaning heavily on his crutch. He wanted to groan in pain but held it pressed against tight lips. Each year that he got older the more difficult it was to go from sitting to standing but he would not let this intruder know his pain. Instead he carefully made his way to Ubbe’s side, only the clank of his metal crutch against the wooden floorboards made any sound in the quiet hall. 

Atli held a smug look hidden in his dark eyes as he watched Ivar approach but he ignored it instead trying to catch a glimpse of the woman hidden behind Atli bulking mass. She was more a girl than a woman, with her bony elbows and hips and round cherubic face. Nervously she adjusted the scarf that had fallen from her head, smoothing the wild ends of her dark hair between long fingers. 

It had been fifteen years since he had sailed away from the shores of the Rus kingdom, leaving behind Katya and a piece of himself with her. **If he closed his eyes he could still see her lips saying everything would be all right** as he left her pregnant with his child. She had been so bold and brave to let him go knowing that his destiny lay in Kattegat not with her. It was not an easy life, raising a child without a husband to support her but he knew she was smart enough to make a life for herself. She had probably done better without him than she would have ever done following him on his insane journey to fulfill his father’s legacy. 

This girl before him could not be his daughter. She shyly hid from his gaze behind a dark curtain of hair. 

‘I do not have a daughter.’ He announced knowingly with a bob of his head. He had never heard stories of a daughter, though he had scouts always in the search for any word of a child that Katya might have brought into this world. Nothing had ever made it to his ears and so he had assumed that whatever Katya had bore when he left her had not made it to term. He had never allowed himself to hope otherwise, it was too hard to imagine a child that never was. It was easier to just think that it had been a fluke or a long forgotten dream. 

The girl’s head snapped up when she heard Ivar’s harsh words. Her chin jutting out and her red lips pressed in a defiant line. Blue eyes of a ghost he had once known stared back at him, hard and angry. 

His breath caught in his throat. 

‘Freydis.’ A whisper of the name of his long ago dead wife slipped off his tongue without thought. He could feel Ubbe’s curious gaze bore hard questioning holes into his back but did not say anything, only looking between him and the child Atli said was his daughter. 

‘So you do know your daughter.’ Atli’s voice boomed in a gleeful tone. ‘I knew it. This little thing does not have it in her to lie.’ 

Atli clapped a large paw onto Freydis skinny arm dragging her before him, the top of her head barely brushing his chest.

Ivar opened his mouth to disagree but held his tongue pulling on a tight lipped smirk instead. Let this man think what he wanted, Ivar did not care, he just wanted to find out what he desired from him so that he might leave his great hall and take this ghost with him. 

He looked back at the slight of a girl in front of him. She watched him with curious eyes, a bright blue, not looking at him with pity but with wonder. The same wonder that Freydis and even Katya had given him. He could not help but grimace at her the sight of her, his lips pulling into a snarl. 

The girl could possibly be his daughter. Tales were not told of daughters, only sons were given that privilege. If this girl had been the product of him and Katya then she had likely skirted the stories that circulated about the great deeds of sons. 

Ivar sparred a glance back at Ubbe wondering if he saw what Ivar saw but no recognition showed on his face. He knew of both Freydis and Katya but had never seen either in person. He only shared a knowing look, the fatherly expression he always gave Ivar whenever he was uncertain. 

‘I have come here today to ask for your daughter’s hand. I want to marry her and raise our child together as a family.’ Atli announced pulling Ivar’s attention back to him. At his words the girl shrunk back into herself, hiding behind the curtains of her hair, eyes cast to the ground. Her fingers rested softly on her belly. She was so skinny that even the slightest bump showed through her dress. Atli’s hand snaked around her waist catching her hand in his, smiling warmly at Ivar. 

‘I do not know this girl.’ Ivar retorted in a half growl. ‘She cannot be my daughter.’ He gestured rudely at the frightened thing shivering before him. He did not need the burden of some unwed pregnant girl in his house, if this man wanted to marry her then so be it. He would have no say in it. 

‘She says she is your daughter.’ Atli fumed through gritted teeth. He untangled his arm from the girl, nudging her forward to the space between him and Ivar. 

‘Tell him what you told me.’ He grumbled harshly. 

The girl drew into herself, wrapping her arms around her ribs as if trying to protect herself. 

‘Um,’ She mumbled, eyes not quiet meeting his. ‘My mother said she became pregnant with the seed of Ivar the Boneless. I was born nine months after you left Kiev.’ 

‘Who is your mother?’ Ubbe urged from behind Ivar. His arms were crossed over his chest, also critical of the situation but when the girl glanced at his older brother she softened under his kind gaze. 

‘My mother is Princess Katya of Kiev.’ The girl squeaked, dropping her gaze back to the floor. Ivar scoffed under his breath. This was all a trick, created by this oaf of a man, Atli and this innocent girl, to get gold out of him. They had created a fantastical story so that Ivar might feel guilty for not providing for his long lost daughter hoping that he would now provide a large bride price for her hand and then the two of them would skip town with their pockets full the moment he turned his back. 

He shook his head in disbelief, stepping into the girl’s space, two steps with the aid of his crutch echoed in the hall. The girl held her breath as Ivar reached out, fingers brushing along her jaw tipping her chin back to look him in the eyes. Her blue eyes held a silent plea of help, innocent and pure. She was not trying to trick him, just confused by a story her mother had told her long ago to entertain her as a child. 

‘You are not my daughter.’ Ivar sighed sadly, both for himself and for the girl. Dropping his hand he turned on his heel, stepping away slowly towards his throne. He wanted to be done with this silly game, it was too exhausting to think about his past life and what would have been. Fragments of Katya flashed before his mind, beautiful and elegant, with her sad smile never reaching her eyes, wishing that Ivar would see her as anything other than his dead wife. 

He held Freydis’ death by his side each day of his life, her image haunting him daily. He regretted it. 

All of it. 

Leaving the only son he had ever known for the wolves, warring against his brothers, killing the one woman who had loved him for who he was.

All of it. 

For so long he had held a ball of resentment deep in the pit of his stomach for his dead wife, blaming her for everything that had come to pass. He imagined again and again the ways he would slowly kill her, make her suffer the same way he had suffered. No longer did he carry that burden. With the slow passing of time he had let that go, forgetting what had even made him hate her in the first place. **If he saw her right now, he was embarrassed to say, he’d take her back and just pretend that she never went away**. 

And now this young woman, looking eerily like Katya and Freydis confused him and making his mind feel fuzzy. 

With a flick of his wrist he motioned to the guards to get rid of these intruders. They moved in swiftly, taking hold of Atli and the girl whose name he refused to acknowledge. Atli gave a gruff shout as the men swarmed in, pulling the sword at his hip out, making everyone in the hall rigid with fear. The guards grasped onto the girl’s arms with tight grips though she did not struggle. 

‘I am your daughter.’ The girl shouted, her tone stern and sure, she held a defiant chin, raised high to Ivar’s critical stare. He had made it to the steps of the dias but peeked over his shoulder at the girl. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders, long and thick, it caught in the light of the sconces giving it an amber glow, reminding Ivar of Katya. 

The guards holding on to her halted, frozen by her sudden rage. She looked down her nose at Ivar, her lips tight and her eyes bright. ‘I am the daughter of Princess Katya of Kiev, former wife to the cruel Prince Oleg, and my father is the Great Ivar the Boneless. You can send me away but you know I am your daughter.’ 

Ivar watched with a slight gape of mouth as this timid girl transformed before him, transfixed by her sudden boldness. Ubbe chuckled lowly under his breath and when Ivar caught his gaze his older brother shrugged his shoulder and shook his head. There was no denying who this child belonged to. 

Ivar sat down on his throne with a sudden heavy weight in his chest. Here she was. A daughter. His daughter. Someone he had never let himself imagine even for the briefest of moments. Here she was standing in his great hall he could hardly comprehend the responsibility suddenly bestowed upon him. Being king was one thing but to be a father of a daughter was a whole new game. 

_His daughter._

_His child._

_His._

He brought his hand to his mouth trying to hide the smile that wanted to erupted across his face, the laughter of joy that wanted to slip out of his lips. 

He motioned to the guards to release his daughter. 

‘Freydis. My daughter.’ He uttered the name only loud enough so that she might hear. Only Katya would be clever enough to name his child after the one person he could never have but always saw in her. 

A happy grin tugged at the corner of Freydis’ lips and her blue eyes flooded with tears though she stubbornly refused to let them flow. She sneakily brushed them away as she checked over her shoulder to Atli, whose chest was heaving in anger, still waiting for a fight, his sword gripped tight in his hand.

Having checked his own emotions, he waved off the guards circling Atli. ‘Tell me. Are you with this man’s child?’ 

Freydis withdrew back into herself as Atli approached her side, nervously brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. She nodded her head in agreement, her eyes darting between Ivar and Ubbe, who had moved in closer. She was scared of being pregnant or of Atli, Ivar could not tell. He would have to find out more to know. 

‘How old are you?’ Ubbe inquired slowly, reading Iva’s mind. Freydis looked barely old enough to carry a child. She was in fact a child herself. 

‘Fifteen.’ She squeaked. A disbelieving scoff escaped Ubbe’s throat and he shook his head, taking a step away as he tried to cool his temper. He had a daughter of his own barely sixteen years old and he could not imagine her coming home to tell him that she was with child. 

Ivar’s gaze shot to Atli, who chest puffed at the attention, trying to act unaffected by his intense glare but he did not hide his emotions on his face well, he all too suddenly looked no older than a boy, just an overgrown boy trying to play at being a man. 

Ivar drummed his fingers on the armrest of his throne, trying to think through what he should do. He had it in his mind to whisk Freydis away from this man-boy and lock her in a room until she gave birth to a child and only then reconsidering letting her back out, heavily guarded of course. His fist squeezed into a tight ball at the thought of this man taking advantage of his daughter, his heart picking up in pace, he opened his mouth to let out the command to kill this Atli when the doors of the hall opened pulling away Ivar’s attention.

Hvitserk strolled through the hall with his long legged gaited, unaware of the tension radiating from the small group surrounding the throne. Most of the residents had gone back to their menial tasks they had been performing before Atli’s loud interruption. Women were mending clothes in one corner near an open window, a few young warriors were gathered around a table sipping ale, and the Arabian merchants hid away in the shadows talking quietly amongst themselves. It was a seemingly normal afternoon in the Great Hall had it not been for the deafening silence, everyone nosily wanted to hear the story of their king’s long lost daughter. 

Hvitserk was oblivious to this fact as he instructed a passing thrall to get him ale and swiped an apple from a bowl on his way to the throne. 

‘What is this?’ Hvitserk mumbled with a flick of his chin at the two children silently standing before Ivar. He eyed Ubbe first, whose lips were held in a tight line that twitched into a snarl at Hvitserk’s innocent inquiry. Hvitserk then turned to Ivar, waiting for an answer as he bit into the apple. 

Ivar shot a sideways glare at the children and Hvitserk followed his gaze to Freydis. He hurriedly wiped his mouth in surprise, swallowing the remains of the apple between his teeth. 

‘Princess Katya.’ He half choked, taking a step in to greet her but drew back at the last moment upon closer inspection. 

‘You are not Princess Katya.’ Hvitserk mumbled dumbly as Freydis shook her dark head of hair. Ivar could not help but roll his eyes at his brother’s daft nature. 

‘No, brother, my daughter, Freydis, whose mother is Katya.’ Ivar announced. Hvitserk’s mouth held a quiet humor as if he had just heard a funny joke but said nothing, only inclining his head in a slight bow. 

‘This is Hvitserk, my brother.’ Ivar motioned in his direction. ‘And my other brother, Ubbe.’ 

Ubbe smiled warmly at Freydis when she glanced in his way, her eyes beamed at her new found family. 

‘What brings you all the way from Kiev, niece?’ Hvitserk inquired as he sat on the steps of the dais, taking another bite of his apple. 

‘She is with my child.’ Atli snapped, nudging himself around Freydis so that she was half hidden from view. ‘I am going to marry your daughter and collect the bride price so that I might take care of her properly.’ 

Hvitserk’s brows furrowed in confusion, speaking the words that were both on Ivar and Ubbe’s minds. 

‘How can she be with child when she is just a child herself?’ 

Atli shot Hvitserk a hard glare trying to intimidate him but he was unbothered by the giant, turning instead to Ivar to answer his question. 

‘I wondering the same thing, brother.’ Ivar fummed through gritted teeth. 

‘Do you want to marry this man?’ Ubbe inquired softly, trying to find Freydis’ gaze around Atli’s bulking mass. Freydis shifted till her shoulder jutted out before Atli trying to find a place where she could look everyone in the eye. This made Atli uncomfortable and he rested a heavy paw on her shoulder stopping her movements. This did not go unnoticed by the brothers and Ubbe took a step in, his hand hidden behind his back resting on the hilt of his knife, watching, waiting. 

‘Do not be afraid to tell the truth, little one.’ Ubbe prodded in the same voice he used on his own children when they were young. 

‘I - I do not know.’ She stuttered uncertainty. 

Atli gaped at her in disbelief, his jaw working in anger before he ripped her arm back forcing her to look him in the eye. 

‘What?’ He bellowed. ‘You came to my bed willingly. More than once. My seed is inside you, taking hold and you will have my son. How can you think you will not marry me? What man would take you now that you are full with my child?’ 

‘I would.’ Hvitserk piped in from his seated position, tossing his finished apple to the ground, where a hound dog scooped up the remains. ‘I would claim the child, if Freydis decides she wants to keep it.’ 

Atli scoffed. ‘You are her uncle, you cannot.’ 

Ubbe shook his head. ‘I do not think you are in the position to be telling us what we can and cannot do.’ He calmly argued, though Ivar could his knuckles behind his back were white around the hilt of his knife. Ivar was not so subtle pulling his own throwing knife from his hip, he spun it between his fingers. This man-boy was lucky he had not impaled him in the throat already but time spent as king for the last fifteen years had leant him a small amount of patience. His daughter looked uncertain, as if she did not know what she wanted. True, she might have willingly gone to bed with this Atli but she should not have been allowed to have that choice in the first place. Where was her mother? Where was Katya to guide her decision making? Freydis was too young to be making these types of life changing decisions, now she would know the burden of her mistakes. 

‘Do you want to keep the child?’ Ubbe wondered, though Ivar knew it pained him to even ask such a question. He loved his children dearly and wanted nothing more than for his wife to give him five more. Freydis lip quivered and she spared a quick glance at the towering man beside her. 

‘I do not know.’ Her voice quivered in response. ‘I do not know what I want anymore.’ 

Ivar bit down on his tongue as he tried to calm the boiling rage building inside his chest. A long time ago if his daughter had arrived at his feet pregnant with some strange man he would have strung up said man by his toes letting him slowly suffer as he died a long death. Now as he looked onto the sweet face of Freydis he was unsure of what he should do. He did not want to scare this frighten doe away from him forever. 

He sighed heavily through his nose, motioning to Freydis to come closer. He would get to the bottom of this, one way or the other. Timidly she stepped away from Atli and up the steps of the dias. Ivar pushed himself to standing, leaning on his crutch as his body adjusted to the new position. Freydis stopped a few steps away from Ivar, nervously glancing up at him. 

‘Come here.’ He urged trying to keep his voice soft like Ubbe had done. She shuffled into him, her head barely reaching his shoulder. He tilted his head into her’s, caressing the side of her head, knife still in hand, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘Say the word and I will get rid of him.’ 

Her hands were shaking and her eyes had been cast to the ground and as he finished speaking she lifted her gaze until the ghost of Katya stared back at him. 

She swallowed her nerves and slowly she said the words he wanted to hear. ‘Get rid of him, _father_.’ 

That was all he needed to know. He swiveled his gaze to Atli, a smug grin could not help but grace his lips at the horror that transformed on the man as he motioned with a flick of his wrist for the guards to remove the man who had impregnated his daughter.

It took five men to take down the giant but when they were finally able to get a hold of him he left kicking and yelling threats. 

Ivar turned to gauge Freydis’ attendance to the violent situation but she just watched with quiet fascination. She caught his inquiring gaze and returned it with a sad smile. Sitting back in his throne with a low grunt he motioned to his daughter to sit next to him in a small chair brought forth by a thrall. Together they watched as Atli was dragged away. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think!


End file.
